lookin' for the perfect beat

i kind of miss sneaking out, don't you? things were given a lot more resonance when you had to earn your travels. going out doesn't seem so alluring now that i don't have to grease the sliding window to my bedroom so that it doesn't creak when it opens. i don't have to search for someone who has a small resemblance to me to use their id to get into something. and i no longer have to wear a scarf for days on end because of an unfortunate hickey that i "earned" from wendy g. under the bleachers of paradox in baltimore on a sweaty august eve (yup, try wearing a scarf in the swampiness of a midatlantic summer). no...friday nights now provide big crowds, douchebags who are ready to hump my girlfriend on the dancefloor while i take a leak, and a massive bar line where i have to squeeze in to order a $15 red bull and vodka.

i kinda think i earned my fridays with a computer i paid for, some tikka masala which i put my money down on, and rest, a snuggle session, and a shitty jerry lewis movie with a gal that i earned my keep with. it may be boring, but it's about as real as a sneakout mission and i get to showcase the hickey's however i want.

baltimore, md, 1996

mr. mark hits the town on weekdays when he can practice his moonwalk on empty dancefloors.